At first the Face of Everyman thought that Cheeky was sleep walking.  But no, Cheeky was trying to complain about the five Raccoons whose antics had kept him awake half the night.  Normally the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa is a quiet place where a good night’s sleep is almost guaranteed.  But, in truth, the venerable sage had his own cross to bear where it came to that riotous family of Raccoons.

TV Spot

The Avalanche Rescue Team and Ski Patrol of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa asked the Face of Everyman to provide someone to make a short TV spot about Winter safety.  Cheeky volunteered.  But, when the cameras rolled all that Cheeky could say was: “Remember boys and girls, don’t eat yellow snow.”


Cheeky was beside himself.  Because of unseasonably warm temperatures here on the Pacific Flyway all of his carefully cached nuts were sprouting.  He relied on these for food during the long cold dark months of Winter.  After reviewing all options, the Face of Everyman agreed to make room in his pantry and storage locker at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa by shipping more truffles to exporters and corner the highly competitive off season market.


Belasco had read every medical journal in the vast library housed at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa: NEJM, The Lancet, JAMA, to name just a few.  No where did he find studies of Squirrels being allergic to peanuts; yet what could account for his stuffy nose and strange coloring?  The problem seemed beyond the ken of the Face of Everyman, he was flummoxed and speechless.

Laborious Holiday

Sparky had lots to do this Labor Day.  As chairman of holiday events, he offered the venerable sage the position of Grand Marshall.   the Face of Everyman regretted not being able to ride in the parade; he had to meet with some big wigs regarding his use of H-1B Visa employees at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  This would be remembered as a very long holiday.


Nibbles was one of the few Foggy Bottom Resort and Spa squirrels born with a condition called scrawny tail.  Daily he would ask the Face of Everyman if he could see any change; any enhancement.  The venerable sage couldn’t lie; but deflected the question by saying that he had diverted vast sums to stem cell research and DNA splicing.  Surely a handsome tail was in the offing.


Suddenly it became clear to Lawrence that his whole life at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa had been under the scrutiny of a mad scientist, a diabolical fiend who took hundreds of photos a day of him and others frolicking.  To what end?  What other life forms were there in this magical place?  From behind, the Face of Everyman began to enumerate . . .